


The End of the Conversation

by fictorium



Category: West Wing
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-22
Updated: 2010-06-22
Packaged: 2017-10-10 05:40:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/96202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictorium/pseuds/fictorium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Words are eventually all they have left.  Once Laurie leaves Washington, Sam doesn't give up on her.  Then he tells her he's going to Orange County. Prompt written for <a href="http://community.livejournal.com/halfamoon/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://community.livejournal.com/halfamoon/"><strong>halfamoon</strong></a> for <a href="http://queenbookwench.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://queenbookwench.livejournal.com/"><strong>queenbookwench</strong></a></p>
            </blockquote>





	The End of the Conversation

**Title:** The End of the Conversation  
**Author:** [](http://lauriestein.livejournal.com/profile)[**lauriestein**](http://lauriestein.livejournal.com/)  
**Rating:** PG  
**Pairing:** Sam/Laurie  
**Spoilers:** Up to 4x16 "California 47th"  
**Disclaimer:** Not mine! Owners retain their rights, I'm merely borrowing and no profit is being made.

**Summary:** Words are eventually all they have left. Once Laurie leaves Washington, Sam doesn't give up on her. Then he tells her he's going to Orange County. Prompt written for [](http://community.livejournal.com/halfamoon/profile)[**halfamoon**](http://community.livejournal.com/halfamoon/) for [](http://queenbookwench.livejournal.com/profile)[**queenbookwench**](http://queenbookwench.livejournal.com/)

  


_   
**Fic: The End of the Conversation, Sam/Laurie, PG**   
_

He calls her from the airport and gives her one last chance to stop him.

  
She doesn't take it.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Honestly?  Laurie is _happy_ in New York.  Those last few weeks in Washington, with the whispers and the catty comments every time she left the apartment were unbearable.  She was relieved when there were no hitches in passing the bar, and she had never wanted to ask if the President's promise had been necessary.

  
The world she lives in now doesn't have much room for Presidents or Senators, and although she'll occasionally see a familiar face from her old life across a crowded hotel ballroom, for the most part she's exactly as anonymous as she wants to be.

  
Entertainment Law is certainly glamorous, and she's never wanted for party invitations since moving here four years ago.  Her work feels frivolous at times, but there's the occasional case where she can sink her teeth into the broad scope of the First Amendment or stop a talented artist being screwed by corporate greed and that's enough for now. 

  
Sam said he'd visit, of course. 

 

He promised a lot of things that he meant every sincere word of, but Laurie saw the lies that he never intended.  Though she had evaporated into the newsprint ether after a few weeks, Sam had remained a walking bullseye for every media outlet in the country.  She'd told him, in their late-night conversations, that they wanted to tear him down for being too pretty.  That he never believed her just made her love him more.

  


They'd achieved the grand total of one weekend, somewhere in the second year when she'd resigned herself to the rumors about Mallory O'Brien (or anyone else with a pulse and Gucci evening gown).  Sam had taken time off, one of those fake vacations where he spent half the time compulsively checking his pager. 

  
But it had been perfect.

  


Only after those two days of naked, tangled, chatty bliss had she really started to _miss_ him.  Their phone conversations decreased a little, but she was used to apologetic mutterings at 1am when he couldn't find a word less troublesome than torpor.  He'd always pick up when she got bored in a meeting and excused herself to the hallway just to see what chaos was happening in his world.  

  


And then one day he announced he was going back to California.

  


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  
She hangs up without even thinking about it. 

  


He's calling from somewhere crowded (Election Night, go figure) and rambling about Aristotle and storms in a way that makes Laurie quite sure that he's drunk.  Then Sam steps away from the background noise, and he begins to speak quite calmly about Horton Wilder.  Her television is muted in the corner, and it strikes her as hilarious that the guy's name and picture should flash up just as Sam is talking about him.

  
"Laurie, if he wins which _shouldn't be possible_, I said I'd run.  I promised a grieving widow I'd run for her husband's seat."

  


So she hangs up.

  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  


The romance of the gesture is not lost on her.  It's Bogey and Bacall running off to that airstrip together, the promise of escape and new horizons the only chance that their love has.  But Bogey doesn't get on the plane, and Laurie isn't going to LaGuardia. 

  


Sam explains it at length (he even writes her a letter in his remarkably girly handwriting) about how he's going to get his ass handed to him by the great and good of Orange County, how he doesn't need to go back to the White House afterwards.  They can start again in the sunshine and he'll introduce her to his mom.

  


It sounds amazing, this life they can have as successful lawyers whose only involvement with politics will be fighting over that section of the New York Times at breakfast.  It's another vow he truly believes, but Laurie has never dealt in the falseness of the present, her curse is seeing one year down the line, and five and ten.  She sees what happens when the DNC comes knocking and he has to say "I'm sorry I can't run for Congress again, but my wife used to be a hooker."  

 

Well, he'll say it nicer than that, but the facts won't change.

  


She hasn't turned a trick in four years, but she knows the Faustian bargain she made.  Laurie gets her JD and she chooses a life that limits her risk of exposure. 

 

Not that she's ashamed, she did what she had to do and to hell with anyone who disapproves.  She simply wants her life to be about more than the girl without a penny who used her body to be allowed to use her brain.  The end of the story is who she is, and the route no longer matters.

  


Sam is still gorgeously naive about it all, and while she's pleased that it never mattered to him, she knows the hopes and dreams he has.  Laurie has teased him often enough about becoming Governor Seaborn, President Seaborn and not once has he laughed it off in a way that convinces her.  

  


So she tells him no, and it's the hardest word she's ever said.  She can hear his heart breaking over the cellular connection, but forces herself to repeat that damn word, shooting down his every objection. 

  


Eventually, she has to alter her script and point out that that final boarding call is for his flight (and yes, she has the number memorized because she's thought of nothing but this since he mentioned it).

  


He hangs up.

  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

  


It isn't the same after that. 

  


Oh, the intention is there, with voicemails left and emails exchanged, but they never recapture their moment.  Laurie realizes that she shot down so much more than one chance; she's taken out any hope of a future.

  
The days between calls become weeks, and she's almost over it by the time she can count in months.  She meets a great guy, and he treats her well.  Eventually, she makes partner and starts thinking about the kids she wasn't ever sure about having.

  


Her great guy proposes on the day that CNN announces Sam's return to Washington. 

  


She supposes it was always meant to happen this way, and turns off the television.  Tonight she'll celebrate with friends, let them raise champagne flutes to her entire future happiness.  Laurie will allow herself to think about him for one sip, maybe two, and then she thinks she can let him go.

  


Maybe it's finally time. 


End file.
